


Across the Ages

by noyabeans (snowdrops)



Series: Timeless [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Ambiguous Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Faeries - Freeform, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mages, Magic-Users, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, Reunions, Time Travel Fix-It, Vampires, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans
Summary: Yaku is a time traveller, and Kuroo an immortal warlock. This is how they change history, and maybe the future too.“Yeah,” he says. “I just had a feeling, you know? That someone was missing from my life who hadn’t arrived yet.”Yaku feels his ears burn. “What are you talking about,” he says, breaking eye contact.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [Across the Ages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562463) by [yourunproblematic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourunproblematic/pseuds/yourunproblematic)



> [Original prompt](http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/153118247075/a-friendship-between-a-time-traveler-and-an): A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal. Wherever the time traveler ends up, the immortal is there to catch him up to speed.
> 
> Note: This fic has very mild and very ambiguous Bokuaka, Kagehina and Iwaoi that can be interpreted as both platonic or romantic. Just a heads up!
> 
> _Home's where you go when you run out of homes._

**(i)**

**21st Century, x2**

 

Kuroo opens the door to a small figure with light hair and a big grin on his face. Without a second word, he steps aside to let the other enter his house.

Once he’s checked that the wards around his house are still in place, he returns to the living room to find his guest lounging on his couch as though he owns the place, Kuroo’s cat Elle already curled up next to him as he scratches between her ears.

“You know, in whichever timeline I’m in, your house smells exactly the same,” is the first thing the other says when Kuroo steps in front of him, nose scrunching up. “Cinnamon.”

“Don’t be rude to your host or you may just get kicked out,” Kuroo retorts, but he can feel the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. He’s missed this.

“Funny, that’s what you just told me in the 40th century. Also, that wasn’t even me being rude, it was an observation.”

Kuroo stops short from where he was moving towards the kitchen to get a drink, and swivels around. “Yaku, what did you say?” 

“Huh?” 

“You came from the 40th century?”

Yaku’s the picture of absolute innocence. “Yeah, they’ve started setting up colonies on Europa already.” 

“What the hell, Yaku,” Kuroo mutters as he storms towards Yaku, only to stay his hand right before he yanks Yaku up by his collar, because wow, does Yaku look like shit up close. “I told you to stop making such long jumps, didn’t I? You’re killing yourself doing that.” 

Yaku doesn’t flinch despite Kuroo’s hand being mere millimetres away from his throat. Kuroo doesn’t know whether that’s because he’s grown used to Kuroo, or because he’s too tired to fight back. Now that he’s this close to Yaku, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out which answer is the right one. 

Yaku looks exhausted. His skin is pale and the shadows dark under his eyes. A gentle test of his aura reveals it to be a light yellow - a sure sign of fatigue and overexertion.

Obviously he would be. A nineteen-century jump is no laughing matter, and if not for Yaku being _Yaku_ , he doubts the other would have been able to survive it. 

Swallowing whatever scolding he would have launched at Yaku on any other day, Kuroo shuffles closer to Yaku, who looks slightly peeved that he’s been caught out. Not like he’d have expected any less of Kuroo, anyway. He kicks a bit when Kuroo hooks his arms around his back and knees to carry him, but his protests are weaker than Kuroo knows they can be.

Despite all the years they’ve spent apart, Yaku doesn’t seem to have grown one bit. He’s as slight as Kuroo remembers - which has to be at least a couple years ago.

“Have you been eating?” he murmurs as he hoists Yaku up against his shoulder. “You’re lighter than a sack of potatoes.”

“Geez, thanks for the compliment,” Yaku grumbles. “Unfortunately I haven’t had real food in a long time. All they have in the far future is processed food liquids, which really sucks. I’d take your cooking over that any time.”

“That’s an honour to hear,” Kuroo chuckles solemnly as he trudges down the corridor to the guest bedroom. “The future sounds like a miserable place?”

Yaku sighs, a puff of air tickling the side of Kuroo’s neck. “Tell me about it. People never learn. Humanity’s moved to outer space already.... I was actually staying on Europa.”

“Europa? You mean Jupiter’s moon?” Kuroo’s hand rests on the doorknob as he slides a glance at Yaku.

“Yeah. Earth’s long gone beyond salvation, the scientists from that time say it’ll take a few millennia for it to rebuild.”

“Oh.” Kuroo bends down, places Yaku gently down onto the bed. “Sounds terrible. Were you staying with me?”

Yaku promptly snuggles into the blankets, ignoring Kuroo and letting out a pleased sigh of “I’ve missed this bed!” Kuroo’s heart warms at the sight, and he sits down next to where Yaku is lying. 

“You know how you always say you’re never gonna move out of this ratty mansion?” Yaku says after their momentary lapse into silence, looking up at Kuroo through his lashes. 

“My mansion is _not_ ratty, thank you very much. What about it?”

Yaku smiles, wry. “I missed it a lot when I was on Europa.”

“You mean I-” There is a cold chill creeping up Kuroo’s chest at what Yaku seems to be implying.

Yaku’s eyes widen. “No, no, I stayed with you on Europa! You’re healthy and alive in the fortieth century, you immortal freak,” he flusters, and the chill immediately vanishes. “It’s just - life out there isn’t what we think it is. Or what I thought it was. It’s cold, there’s no day and no night. And we… didn’t even have something like this place to stay in. It was all container housing, which was fine enough for me, but. I missed this place.” 

“So you’re going to stop asking me to move out of here?” Kuroo teases. 

Yaku answers him with a grin. “Maybe I will.” He amends that almost immediately, though, as he catches sight of a particularly dubious and dark corner of the room and pulls a face. “For now.”

 

* * *

 

**(1)**

**13th Century, x1**

 

The first time Yaku intentionally makes a time leap backwards, he ends up in the 13th century. He’s already met Kuroo, of course - but Kuroo as he was in the 21st century.

 Now, time leaps are a strange thing. In theory they should allow the traveller to end up at the exact same place where he’d left, but in a different time period. For all intents and purposes, Yaku’s leaps do exactly that.

But right now, Yaku’s confused, because the house he’s been unceremoniously deposited in front of most certainly does not belong to the immortal warlock Kuroo Tetsurou. It’s a small cottage, looking exactly like the ones next to it - Kuroo would _never_ stay in such close proximity to regular humans… would he? Has his leap screwed up? This has to be a mistake, this probably isn’t Kuroo’s house -

...Or so he thinks, because the next thing he knows, he’s been hit by a stunning spell laced with Kuroo’s power. Okay, so he thought wrong, Yaku sighs, feeling his limbs lock in place.

“Speak, or forever hold your peace, stranger,” Kuroo says, finally appearing in the doorway - and it’s definitely Kuroo, because his eyes are glowing the way they do whenever he uses his magic, and that godawful bed hair of his is exactly the same no matter which year Yaku visits - it seems that even time can’t tame the gravity-defying mess that sits on top of Kuroo’s head.

Yaku smirks; Kuroo’s taught him exactly how to escape from this particular spell, _In case you ever get yourself in a tight spot, you know, Yakkun? The mages in the olden days used to use this spell a lot, you might get caught in one some day._

 _Yeah, tell me about it, you’re the one using it on me,_ Yaku mutters to the Kuroo in his head, relieved nonetheless that it’s coming in handy.

“Libero,” he says, maintaining eye contact with Kuroo as he does so. The spell releases; Kuroo’s eyes widen.

“Who are you?” he growls, crouching lower into an aggressive stance, preparing to cast another spell, but Yaku is having none of that today.

“We're like the blood in our veins. We must flow without stopping. Keep the oxygen moving and your mind working,” he recites, internally rolling his eyes. Why the hell Kuroo made him use that as a code phrase for his past and future selves to recognize Yaku as an ally, he has no idea - Kuroo thinks of the most pretentious things at times - but it seems to do the trick, because Kuroo relaxes a little bit, although his back remains tense as he eyes Yaku like a cornered animal.

It’s slightly unnerving, to be honest, seeing Kuroo this on edge and wary.

Yaku sighs, and pulls out the lock of hair from his jacket’s inner pocket. It’s Kuroo’s, given to him by the warlock himself as a backup measure in case he’s ever doubted by any of Kuroo’s selves.

“Time traveller, Yaku Morisuke, from the 21st century. Nice to meet you,” he says with a slight bow.

 

* * *

  

**(2)**

**24th Century, x1**

 

“I’m back,” he announces as he enters the house.

“Welcome back,” Kuroo says with a huge grin on his face, looping an arm over Yaku casually. “Did you come because you knew I was cooking?”

Yaku rolls his eyes and swats at him. “Obviously, why else would I be here? That’s what you’re good for, aren’t you?”

“Kenma, look at how he hurts me!”

For what it’s worth, Kenma only looks up from his game console for a moment to greet Yaku and ignores Kuroo’s antics.

“Where did you come from, Yaku-san?” Kenma asks later when they’re having dinner.

“39th century,” Yaku yawns, exhaustion heavy in his limbs. He feels incredibly tired - the food has settled warm in his stomach, and okay, maybe making such a long jump back here wasn’t a smart choice but it was the best option he'd had -

“Isn’t that a pretty long jump?”

“Yeah, it is,” Yaku shrugs, not missing the way that Kuroo frowns at him. He adds, “All in a day’s work, though.”

There’s a clap of hands that can only belong to one person - the warlock sitting opposite him at the dining table. “Now, now, Yakkun, can’t have you passing out at the dinner table, can we?”

Yaku groans and shuffles to his feet, because okay, the bed sounds like a good place to head to right now, but a wave of vertigo hits him and he feels the whole world spin. There’s a panicked call of - “Hey, woah, Yaku!” and someone gripping him - _cinnamon_ , Yaku thinks before everything goes black.

 

He wakes up to Kenma sitting next to his bed, tapping away at his console.

“Do you ever put that away,” Yaku chides softly, and is met with an affronted look from Kenma.

“I put it away when I’m eating,” Kenma retorts. “You gave Kuro a huge scare.”

Yaku grimaces. He knows he's never going to hear the end of this from the warlock - Kuroo always accuses him of being overprotective, but who is Kuroo to talk, really, when he’s equally bad? “How long was I out?”

“Two days? He called up Kai-san to ask him to cover your mission.”

Okay, _that_ ’s bad. Kai’s a nice person, good friend and understanding fellow time traveller, but Yaku doesn’t like owing people favours. He’s about to jump out of bed, when Kenma adds, “Also, Kuro told me to restrain you if you try to leave the house before dinner. He’s warded the door.”

Yaku pulls a face. “Who does he think he is?”

“The owner of this house, that’s who,” Kuroo says just then, appearing in the doorway. “Don’t ever pull something like that again, Yakkun. I don’t need you falling for me literally, you know?"

Yaku rolls his eyes. “As if.”

Kenma ignores both of them.

 

* * *

 

  **(3)**

**28th Century, x1**

 

“Hello, Yaku-kun,” Sugawara Koushi says when he opens the door. “It’s been a while. Tea?”

Yaku grins and gives him a quick hug. “Yeah, it has. Water’s fine, thanks.”

As Suga bustles around his small kitchen - more a countertop, really, considering the size of kitchens back in the good old days when people stayed in houses - Yaku bites at his lip. He’s here to ask a favour of Suga, an old friend and one of the best healers from the Karasuno clan.

“You are troubled, Yaku-kun,” Suga observes as he sets the water down in front of Yaku. Yaku gives him a wry smile, even as he feels Suga send calming pulses towards him.

“I am.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Suga, have you heard of any diseases that can afflict vampires?”

Suga considers the question for a long time, seeming to rake through his mind for the answer.

“No,” he says at last. “I’ve never had to treat any vampires for any kind of disease. Why do you ask?”

“There’s a vampire in - in one of my timelines who’s fallen sick,” Yaku says, unable to keep the worry from seeping into his voice. “It hits him in fits and bursts, but it’s similar to… the effects of silver? When it strikes, he’s paralysed and gets burns in the most random of places. But there’s no silver anywhere - we checked as many times as we could - and he’s been steadily weakening every time I see him.”

Suga gets to his feet and makes his way to the tall bookshelf in the hallway. It is in the nature of the mages to be traditional, so it comes as no surprise to Yaku that Suga keeps actual paper tomes in his house when he needs medical reference instead of using the online database.

He fishes out a book and quickly leafs through it, his magic pulsing through and pausing on a certain page, but then shakes his head.

“The only mention here of any illness that can weaken like that is an illness specific to the werepeople, the _Aguarile_ disease, which is activated in the presence of silver,” Suga says. “And that illness has disappeared off the surface of the earth since the 19th century."

 

* * *

  

**(4)**

**25th Century, x1**

 

Kenma’s sitting on the couch when he enters the house, tapping away at his game. It’s a different game whenever Yaku sees him - ever since he first started staying at Kuroo's, he'd always been interested in games. And since there really isn't much else for a vampire to do, he spends most of his free time trying out all the new games that are released over the centuries.

After all, while it is Yaku’s job to bypass the laws of time, time does not exist for the ones with eternal life, such as Kuroo and Kenma; for them, days, weeks and even months pass without much meaning.

Yaku’s brought back games from the future for Kenma before, although only one of them has ever seemed to actually impress Kenma - a game called Monster Hunter from the 38th century. Kenma had been _hooked_ on it and Kuroo had bemoaned having to get Kenma to follow a regular lifestyle because he was more concerned with finishing the game than actually eating his meals and getting enough sleep.

“Hey, Kenma,” he says as he makes himself comfortable next to the vampire on the couch. Kuroo’s current cat - a calico named Yuuki - leaps into his lap as he does so. “Haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“It’s only been six weeks, Yaku-san,” Kenma says, not lifting his eyes from the handheld. “I’m good.”

Yaku meets Kuroo’s eyes over the top of Kenma’s head. According to Kuroo, Kenma hasn’t had any illness attacks in the last two weeks or so, which is good news. The bad news: Yaku’s never bumped into Kenma while travelling in the future.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Kuroo asks as he leafs through a worn book titled _Cats and Personality Traits_. God knows what the warlock needs that information for. “You usually don’t visit when it’s a stopover mission.”

“Yeah, but the mission was based in Japan, so I figured I might as well drop by and check in on you guys. I’m leaving after dinner though, I’ve got a transfer jump at the 29th later.”

“Thanks for your concern. Where are you going?”

“You’re most welcome. I’m headed to the 37th.”

“When will you be back?” Kenma asks, much to Yaku’s surprise, though his eyes remain trained on his game.

Yaku considers the question as he skims through his mission list. “I’m staying in the 37th for four months. I might have some free time to come back after that.”

Usually he’d return to the 21st, but since Kenma’s the one asking, Yaku’s willing to make an exception.

 

* * *

  

**(5)**

**37th Century, x1**

 

“It’s Kuroo and Yaku,” Kuroo says into the intercom, and the door clicks open.

When they enter, a small figure who’s slouching on the couch jumps up, making a beeline towards Yaku as he flings himself on the other. “Morisuke!”

Now, this is unexpected. He hasn’t met Nishinoya in quite a few centuries now; the other’s a time traveller like him and Kai, and they usually aren’t dispatched to the same timeline. “Noya, why are you here?”

“I’m on break, of course!” Nishinoya says, puffing out his chest. “I thought I’d come visit Bokuto-san and Keiji while I was here, but they’re both tending to a patient now so I’m waiting for them! Hi, Kuroo-san!”

Nishinoya’s a rolling ball of energy. This is a fact of life that will never change, Yaku thinks fondly to himself as he swaps stories with the other about their time travelling escapades. As always, Nishinoya’s carried out a bunch of successful missions - even though it’s not a competition, sometimes Yaku thinks that Nishinoya’s mission success rate makes him Yaku’s closest rival.

Subconsciously, he can feel the weight of Kuroo’s gaze on him - _why_ is he eyeing me like this? he stops to question at some point, but never gets a chance to ask because right then, Bokuto comes out from the back room, his hands still pulsing with the unique brand of Fukurodani’s faerie magic.

“Tetsu! Yakkun! Noya! Woah, it’s a busy place here today! Keiji, where are you!” he shouts, voice booming against the walls as he pulls Kuroo towards himself for a quick one-armed embrace.

They’re old friends, but the specifics of _how_ that happened are lost on Yaku - the Fukurodani faeries seldom venture out of their own realm, which means they only get to meet when Kuroo makes the long trip down here. Even Yaku hasn’t visited Fukurodani for a long time, because it’s too far out of the way.

Akaashi enters the living room right on cue, wiping down his hands on his clothes. “I told you they were coming over, Kou,” he says with infinite patience. “Noya-san, Kuroo-san, Yaku-san,” he adds in greeting.

Bokuto looks a little sheepish, but recovers quickly. “So, why are all of you here?”

“I’m here to catch up with you two,” Nishinoya grins. “I’m not sure about Kuroo-san and Morisuke-kun though!”

Kuroo speaks before Yaku can. “Kou and Akaashi, do you know of any illnesses that can be inflicted on vampires?”

“What kind of illness are you talking about?”

“Karasuno’s Sugawara… yeah, that healer from the 28th century, said it’s similar to the... _Aguarile_ disease?” Yaku says, uncertain if his memory is correct. Akaashi nods with a small smile, so he continues. “He suffers from symptoms of silver poisoning, like temporary paralysis or random burning, even without the presence of silver.”

“How long has it been going on for?”

“Three centuries and a half?” Yaku hazards a guess.

Bokuto whistles. “Which century are you talking about?”

“The first time he showed any symptoms, it was the 23rd century. The last time I saw him was the 25th. And I’m worried, because Kuroo doesn’t remember what happened to him and I haven’t seen him since.”

It isn’t Kuroo’s fault, though. The warlock’s lived a long life, and every year there are new things to worry about, new people coming and going. And though Kenma was a huge part of Kuroo’s life in those centuries, chances are he’d just slipped away without Kuroo realizing on top of everything else he had to worry about.

But what scares Yaku most is that Kuroo, both in this century and the 28th, can barely recall who Kenma is, much less what happened to him. It makes dread churn in Yaku’s stomach, that whatever’s happened to Kenma, he might never be able to find out.

“If you can’t heal the illness, have you tried treating the symptoms?” Nishinoya asks, cocking his head.

“Yeah, we tried asking all the healers we know, but they couldn’t help much,” Yaku says, not quite knowing what Nishinoya’s aiming at.

Nishinoya shakes his head. “There are other ways of healing than magic, you know. Konoha-san taught me how to use _bralzt_ to treat silver wounds a couple leaps back - maybe that will work? But I’m not sure if _bralzt_ was available back then.”

Akaashi’s already tapping away at the hologram screen in front of him, calling up a search. “It’s been available since the 27th century. You’ll find it in the English countryside.”

The 27th century. He hasn’t been there before.

 

* * *

  

**(6)**

**27th Century, x1**

 

Memory works in funny ways. Yaku’s come to realize this as he travels across the centuries.

While Kuroo has never _forgotten_ him or not known who he is (sans that first leap to the 13th century, and every century before that), he needs to be reminded of Yaku’s existence.

It sounds morbid, but to Yaku it makes sense. As he messes with the dimensions of space and time, Kuroo’s memory fills in the lapses by blurring them over.

It isn’t difficult, meeting new versions of Kuroo. After all, they’re all Kuroo in the end, and he usually makes the connection within minutes of their first meeting.

He’s surprised, however, as he makes his landing in the 27th century for the first time, getting ready to introduce himself to yet another new version of Kuroo - so many, even after so many years - when he finds himself squinting up at a Kuroo who’s beaming so wide Yaku thinks his face might split open.

“You’re finally here!” is the loud, boisterous greeting he gets when he regains his bearings, though his head's still spinning from the ten century jump distance.

“Finally…?”

It’s the first time he’s ever been greeted with such a lack of hostility or distrust from the other. Sure, Kuroo’s selves in the 22nd and 24th centuries were quick to welcome him, but even they had been slightly cautious when he first arrived. This Kuroo, however -

“I’ve been waiting for a really long time,” Kuroo grins, and the earnestness with which he says it makes Yaku forget how to breathe for a split second.

He ushers Yaku into his house; it’s as ratty as it is in the 21st, though maybe a little bit more modern - Yaku catches sight of a hoverpod parked in the backyard, and the robo-cat that brushes by his leg as he sits down on the couch feels almost real.

“You knew I was coming?”

Kuroo’s still smiling, staring at Yaku like he can’t quite believe his eyes. Yaku doesn’t know what to make of it. None of Kuroo’s other selves have ever mentioned _expecting_ Yaku, and he wonders if it’s a sign that he’s really spent too much time with the warlock.

“Yeah,” he says. “I just had a feeling, you know? That someone was missing from my life who hadn’t arrived yet.”

Yaku feels his ears burn. “What are you talking about,” he says, breaking eye contact.

Kuroo’s sitting in front of him now, perched on one of the hovering stools, intentionally lowering himself to Yaku’s eye level. “I have a problem, though. You obviously know me in some way or another. But who are you? I don’t think I’ve met you yet.”

“Yeah, it’s my first time here,” Yaku says. “Yaku Morisuke, from the 21st century. Any tidings, warlock?”

Kuroo’s expression sobers a bit, which makes Yaku’s heart jump into his throat. Without a second word, he’s jumping off the stool, running into the master bedroom - the same deer head hanging on the bedroom door that has been there since the 15th century, what the _hell_ \- and coming back out with a hologram projector cupped between his hands.

“Kenma!” Yaku exclaims, eyebrows shooting up. Kenma’s sprite is sitting down in the projection, eyes trained on the gaming console in front of him. Yaku struggles to wrap his head around it. Kenma’s hologram - that means -

There’s a small, sad smile on Kuroo’s face. “We couldn’t save his body. Hinata and his friend managed to save his consciousness and transfer it to the hologram. They… might be uploading him to the registry soon. Give him a chance at reincarnation.”

“How long?” Yaku whispers.

“At least fifty years now,” Kuroo says.

The pang of hurt stabs through Yaku’s chest.

“He was happy,” Kuroo says, as if he’s read Yaku’s mind. It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Kuroo’s been watching over Kenma ever since he stumbled to Kuroo’s house on a rainy night in the middle of the 20th century, a lonely vampire with no coven of his own. To Kuroo and Yaku, Kenma is already part of whatever ragtag family they’d formed over the years.

Kenma deserved better. _Deserves_ better.

But Yaku is a time traveller, and remaking history is what he does best.

 

* * *

 

**(ii)**

**21st Century, x2**

 

Kuroo’s cooking dinner when Yaku wanders back out of his room. He looks much better than he did when he first arrived, though now that he’s dressed in one of Kuroo’s spare shirts, he looks worryingly thin.

“Sleep well?” he asks in way of greeting, and Yaku answers with a yawn. 

“Mmhmm.”

“So, why’d you come back here this time?” he asks, keeping his voice neutral and directed towards the pot he’s stirring, knowing that Yaku is that much more prone to avoiding the topic if asked directly. “It was a really long jump.”

There’s silence for such a long while that Kuroo would think that Yaku’s left the kitchen, but he can sense the other’s aura at the side of the room.

“I told you, I missed the bed.”

“Only the bed?” 

Yaku sighs, a long, drawn-out sound of suffering that is so familiar, it makes Kuroo’s chest hurt. He definitely knows what Kuroo wants him to say, but he doesn’t want to say it. Always so stubborn, Yaku is.

Kuroo feels him move closer towards himself. “How could I miss you when you were there with me in the future?” 

“Hey, all my selves are different.”

“Point,” Yaku acquiesces, as he leans his forehead against Kuroo’s shoulder. “Maybe I like this you the best.” 

“How was I in the future?” Kuroo asks, even though his heart is aflutter at Yaku’s words. It’s not often that he hears Yaku admit something so _honest_ out loud, and he’s missed Yaku too.

Yaku groans at the question, as though recalling a miserable memory, and punches him gently. “Exasperating. Still sleeping with two pillows. Still best friends with Bokuto. Wait, maybe even better, I don’t know. So, much like right now. Maybe stronger and naggier than before.”

Kuroo smirks. “Good to know I didn’t really change, huh.” 

“Like I said, I came back here for the food, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Kuroo chuckles. “Way to hurt my feelings, Yakkun.”

Yaku laughs then, bright and tinkling, and Kuroo switches off the stove. “C’mon, dinner’s ready.”

It’s been a long time since he’s had company for dinner.

 

* * *

 

**(7)**

**24th Century, x1**

 

It’s Yaku’s turn to cook today, for once, and Kuroo’s given up on whatever work he was doing, opting instead to slouch against the dinner table and watch Yaku cook. It’s the first time since Yaku arrived a week ago that it’s just the two of them - Kenma’s gone out to talk a walk around the neighbourhood, apparently having gotten bored of staying at home all day.

Better cut to the chase, then.

“Kenma dies in the 27th century,” he says as he throws a few onions into the pan, listening to how they fizzle in the hot oil. He very carefully does not look at Kuroo. “We don’t manage to heal him. The mages and healers of the future don’t know how to help.”

“And?”

Kuroo’s voice is strained. Yaku tries not to remember the way he looked in the 27th century when he brought Kenma’s hologram sprite out.

“We end up uploading him to the registry.”

Kuroo is silent for a long time. “Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?” Yaku feels something swell up deep inside him, red hot and burning. Why does Kuroo sound so nonchalant about it? Does he not _care_?

Kuroo makes a choked sound that may or may not be a laugh. Yaku throws the vegetables into the frying pan with more force than is strictly necessary.

“You’re already planning to change this line of history.”

He blinks: Kuroo’s phrased his words as a statement, not a question. “So even though it’s already happened, I know you’re going to do something about it.”

Yaku hates it when Kuroo is right. Kuroo knows this very well.

“I’m going to the past,” he says, which is enough answer for Kuroo. “But I need your help.”

“My help? Why?” Yaku glances sidelong at Kuroo, whose eyes are trained in the direction of Yaku’s back.

“Do you know when Kenma was turned? If all else fails, I’ll just start following him around.”

Kuroo cocks his head in contemplation, brows furrowed. “He isn’t very clear of that, either. I’m guessing 18th or 17th century? I only met him somewhere in the middle of the 20th century.”

Yaku hums. “18th century, then.”

 

* * *

 

**(8)**

**18th Century, x1**

 

18th-century Kuroo surprises him by greeting him with a garland of fresh garlic.

“I’m ensuring you’re not a vampire disguised as my favourite time traveller,” he says sagely. Yaku bites back a laugh at that, both at how ridiculous Kuroo’s being, and at the sheer irony of what he’s saying.

“Vampires, huh,” he says as he trails after Kuroo into the mansion. “You can sniff them out, can’t you?”

The comment seems to be a revelation to Kuroo, because he pauses and considers the statement. Yaku snorts - Kuroo’s 21st-century self can do that, so it’s more likely that this Kuroo simply hasn’t figured it out yet. “Anyway, vampires are the biggest threat to humanity now, or what?”

It’s unlikely. Humans will always be their own worst enemy. After travelling through so many millennia, Yaku can testify to this.

Kuroo throws his head back and guffaws. “Nope! But they’re the ones that humanity’s most afraid of right now. Finding enemies in your own backyard, you know? I’ve been busy as all heck with humans coming in to request curses and wards, and vampires coming in seeking protection. It’s so difficult being a middleman,” he whines.

Curiousity piqued, Yaku takes a long sip from his drink. “Curses? Vampire curses?”

Kuroo nods. “Some humans want to watch the world burn. They ask me to poison the vampires, or cast the mark of Cain, or purify them, or…” he makes a face, “basically, to make their lives difficult and miserable.

“Not that I actually curse them. I give them protective charms so the vampires don’t go close to them.”

“Shirking off on your business ethics, eh?” Yaku comments, and Kuroo chuckles.

“Nah. Vampires aren’t inherently good or bad, and I have no right going around placing curses on anyone.” His mouth pulls into a grimace then, as if he’s bitten into something unpleasant. “I’ve heard that there’s a mage going around placing actual curses in return for money, though. I’m not sure if it’s urban legend, but I heard he’s a rogue disciple of Oikawa.”

 _Oikawa_. The name is familiar, but Yaku doesn’t quite remember where and in which century he’s heard it before.“Who-?”

“You know of the Seijou clan?”

Yaku nods - they’re a clan of highly skilled mages and healers, though they usually keep to themselves and don’t interact much with people outside the clan. Yaku’s worked with them once in passing; what little else he knows of them is what he’s heard from others.

“Oikawa’s their leader. He’s the best mage out there today. I don’t think he’s still alive in your timeline, but he’ll probably go down in history as the best leader bar none of the Seijou clan.

“He took on four disciples this year. Word has it that he had a falling-out with one of them and disavowed him, and that disciple is now taking on all kinds of requests with no regard for morality. Including placing irreversible, or almost-irreversible, curses on vampires.” Kuroo makes a face. “I don’t think he’s an evil mage, though. From what I’ve heard, he seems… misled, or maybe lost? His teacher did abandon him, after all.”

A curse. A curse would make sense considering what happened to Kenma, Yaku thinks.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Kuroo says. “Anyway, you haven’t told me why you-”

“What’s the rogue mage’s name?” Yaku interrupts.

Kuroo blinks at him. “Kageyama. Kageyama Tobio.”

 

* * *

 

  **(9)**

**18th Century, x1**

 

Whether it is the regal air he carries with him, or the buzz of his magic, or the soft, pulsing turquoise of his aura, everything about Oikawa Tooru spells _danger_ to Yaku.

Oikawa has the textbook example of a charming smile - calming, intimidating and attractive all at once. Mages, Yaku has noticed in his dealings with them over the years, have a tendency to have smiles like that, enough to make one lower their guard around them.

But Yaku is no stranger to dealing with charisma. After all, he’s been lodging with one insufferable warlock for his whole life. Oikawa’s charm might work on the inexperienced, but Yaku is no rookie.

“Oikawa-san,” he greets politely.

“Yaku-kun!” Oikawa says, as though they are long-lost friends instead of strangers who are meeting for the first time. “Come in, come in.”

His house smells of mint. There’s another man sitting on the couch; Oikawa ushers him to one of the empty armchairs. “This is Iwa-chan, my second-in-command. Iwa-chan, meet Yaku-kun, Bedhead-chan’s friend.”

Ah, Iwaizumi Hajime. The only one in the whole clan - _whole clan! of over 400 proficient healers and mages!_ \- that Oikawa will listen to.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. Iwaizumi returns the greeting, but is otherwise silent.

“So, Yaku-kun,” Oikawa says, returning to the coffee table with a bright purple drink, before sitting down next to Iwaizumi. Yaku eyes it warily, to a peal of laughter from Oikawa. “That’s just hibiscus juice with honey, I’m not trying to poison you. Iwa-chan won’t let it happen on his watch,” he says, throwing Iwaizumi a careless grin, which the other simply rolls his eyes to. “Anyway, Bedhead-chan says you wanted to ask me something about Tobio-chan?”

It takes a moment for Yaku to figure out who _Tobio-chan_ is.

“Yes, Kageyama. I heard he’s been carrying out unethical magic practices against the vampires in recent days?”

Oikawa pulls a face that would put any teenaged brat to shame. “How would _I_ know what he’s been up to?” he actually _whines_ , and Iwaizumi cuffs him over the head.

“Cut it out, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says. He turns to Yaku with an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, neither of us actually keep tabs on what Kageyama is up to. We’ve heard the rumours, of course, but Shittykawa here,” Oikawa makes a sound of protest at the name, “ordered that the whole clan not meddle with Kageyama’s affairs.”

Hm. So that’s a dead end. But he’s come all the way down here, and both the mages don’t seem as hostile as he’d feared, so Yaku tries his luck.

“What kind of student was he?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange a look, before Oikawa, sulking slightly, says, “Tobio-chan’s a prodigy.”

Yaku stares at him, unsure what to make of that comment. Thankfully, Iwaizumi seems to pick up on his confusion and hurries to fill in the blanks. “Kageyama was - is - a very talented mage. He’ll probably surpass Oikawa’s level once he gets his magic under control, but unfortunately when he was in Seijou, he was what we call a… power freak. Always in search for more ways to grow, but not in a healthy way.

“He learns very quickly, and he can wield magic in ways that we can only dream of, but it’s incredibly difficult to work with him, because of the way he treats other people. People, to Kageyama, are simply means to an end.”

Yaku stares at the cup in his hand. The hibiscus juice is sweet, but with what Iwaizumi’s told him, it tastes almost bitter.

“So would you think it possible that he is really selling curse services?”

Oikawa turns his nose up. “I should hope not, that would tarnish my reputation further. But I wouldn’t put it past him. That greed for power might well have changed into a greed for money.”

 

* * *

 

  **(10)**

**18th Century, x1**

 

To say that he turns up at the coffeehouse where he’s scheduled to meet Kageyama with a bit of trepidation is an understatement. The wind is nipping at his cheek, the whisper of winter in the air, as he ducks into the shop. The nervousness eases up somewhat when he reminds himself that Kuroo is there, sitting in disguise a few tables away from where Yaku is, ready to back him up if Kageyama so much as tries to pull anything funny.

Kageyama shows up right on time. He’s dressed in a dark cloak, his movements graceful as he talks to the small hooded figure next to him. Yaku eyes the shorter figure warily - is it a compatriot? A familiar? A summoned demon? He certainly hadn’t heard of Kageyama having a partner.

Under the hood, he can’t make out much, but the person is jumping up and down as they try to keep pace with Kageyama. It reminds Yaku of someone, but he can’t place his finger on who.

“Yaku-san,” Kageyama says when he finally makes it to the table, dropping into a quick, polite bow, a gesture that Yaku returns, then pointing an almost-accusatory finger at his hooded companion with a glare. “This is Hinata. Wandering bard. Leech. Pain in the ass.” 

Something in Yaku’s stomach flips at the name. _Hinata -_?

Making an offended noise, Hinata casts off his hood, revealing the shock of orange hair that Yaku knows belongs to _the_ one and only Hinata Shouyou, and shakes the snow from it onto Kageyama, who shoves him away with a _tsk_. Hinata appears entirely unfazed. Yaku wonders if he should be worried that Hinata’s being manhandled this roughly by a powerful mage and but doesn't seem the least bit bothered.

“Nice to meet you, Yaku-san!” he grins, before his expression morphs into one of confusion. “Have we met?”

Yaku shakes his head. “No, not yet.”

Not as far as Yaku knows. The first time he’d met Hinata was in the 20th century, around the same time that he’d first met Kenma. Certainly not here, in the 18th century, and certainly not in the presence of Kageyama.

Anyway - there’s silence at the table now, and Kageyama and Hinata are both looking at him expectantly. “Uh, so, I’m a time traveller, as Kuroo probably told you. I heard that you’re offering services to place curses on vampires?”

Kageyama and Hinata have matching looks of confusion on their faces. He might not know Kageyama, but Hinata, he knows, is absolutely incapable of lying. He’s a lousy liar even in the future, so Yaku would bet that this younger version of Hinata is even worse - which means that the confusion he’s showing now is real. Huh.

“Curses?” they echo at the same time, and Yaku immediately hushes them, all too aware of the glances that people are throwing their way.

 _Huh._ If Kageyama isn’t providing curses then what is he doing?

“Yea-? I was kind of wondering if you would be able to help me place a curse on a certain vampire, actually,” he says, feigning obliviousness. “He’s been creating trouble for a bunch of townsfolk, or so I heard. I’ll pay you good money if you could just help me curse him.”

Both of their jaws drop, and Kageyama starts flailing, arms going in all directions and hitting Hinata in the face on more than one occasion, his own face flushing with embarrassment. Yaku watches, amused. “I- Uh- Sorry- you must’ve gotten the wrong person?”

“We’ve _never_ placed curses on any vampires!” Hinata chimes in indignantly, the tone of voice exactly the same as what Yaku’s heard in the future when Kuroo calls him _chibi-chan_. “The only business we ever had with vampires was with exorcising them when they got corrupted! I’m very sorry Yaku-san but you’ve got the wrong person!

Kageyama! Let’s go!”

He’s about to drag Kageyama away (which is an impressive feat in itself) when Yaku rises to his feet to stop them as he pieces two and two together, ignoring the fact that he can hear snickering from the approximate direction of where Kuroo is sitting, disguised as a lady with a cat.

Hinata’s got a good grasp on people’s characters, a talent that comes from his half-faerie blood, and he wouldn’t be sticking around Kageyama and be so _close_ to him if Kageyama were as bad as Oikawa’s made him out to be. Sure, Yaku thinks, Kageyama’s blunt, rude, gruff and evidently awkward with people, but he’s talented and about as evil as Kyoutani from Seijou is - which means, not at all. Yaku had worked with Kyoutani in the 23rd century to solve a murder case, and had discovered firsthand why one should never judge a book by its cover.

This only means one thing: one enemy less, one ally more. Perfect. 

 

“So you’re telling me that this vampire is afflicted by some strange ailment that nobody in the future can heal,” Kageyama says thoughtfully. “Yeah, it might be a curse, actually.”

“It might be that spell you used!” Hinata says, jumping up and down in his seat, only stopping when Kageyama fixes him with a glare.

“ _Which_ one?”

“That one! The one that goes _frzzzzh_ , you know? I read that it has side effects! You used it a couple weeks back, remember?”

Kageyama deliberates for a bit before realization dawns. “Oh, that?”

Kuroo’s listening in now, Yaku’s sure of it - he can see Kuroo not-so-subtly leaning towards their table.

“Yes! That! The one you used when you were exorcising Daishou!”

“Daishou?”

“Oh, he was a corrupted snake spirit who was wreaking havoc in many civilians’ places,” Kageyama explains. “I used _Sanctuin_ \- uh, a purification spell - on him.”

“Ohoho, you used _Sanctuin_?” Yeah, Yaku called it. Kuroo’s never been good at keeping a low profile. Even now, he’s sliding into the booth next to Yaku, beaming through his disguise at Kageyama and Hinata, who both look at him with equally wary faces.

“Y-Yea,” Kageyama says with narrowed eyes. “You are…?”

“Oi, cut it out,” Yaku says, jabbing Kuroo in the thigh. “This is Kuroo, the warlock.”

“You’re no fun, Yakkun,” Kuroo scolds with a pout that doesn’t fit the delicate features of the lady he’s masquerading as. “Nice to meet you, chibi-chan and Kageyama-kun.”

Both of them scowl at him. Ah, antagonizing already. No matter which timeline he’s in, that’s Kuroo for you.

“So, you used _Sanctuin_ ,” Kuroo says, returning to his businesslike tone. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“It does?” Yaku asks as he looks at Kuroo.

“Yep! _Sanctuin_ immediately purifies all spirits within a certain radius of its activation spot.

“At the level of your magic right now, it’s possible that you nicked Kenma by accident. He might have been collateral damage - maybe he was at the very edge of that activation radius, which is why in Yakkun’s timelines, he only developed those purification symptoms so much later."

Kageyama’s mouth is opened in a comical O-shape, as he says in a hushed voice of understanding. “So, the purification basically burned him from the inside out.”

Yaku feels like he should be angry at Kageyama - for (maybe) making Kenma suffer so much, so unnecessarily all these years, for (maybe) _killing_ Kenma. As though he’s sensing Yaku’s feelings, Kuroo lays a hand on his knee.

The warmth of Kuroo’s touch is grounding, and Yaku knows, rationally, that Kageyama couldn’t have known either, even if it was his fault.

 

* * *

 

**(11)**

**18th Century, x1**

 

It’s a foggy night when Yaku makes it to the farmhouse where Kageyama’s scheduled to purify the snake spirit Daishou. Kuroo’s next to him, the two of them camouflaged with a charm as they wait for Kageyama’s arrival.

On the ground in front of them, Kuroo’s set up an all-seeing spell that will let them observe the immediate vicinity and look out for Kenma. _Magical CCTV_ , Yaku thinks and has to suppress the laugh that threatens to bubble out of him.

It’s likely that Yaku will have to make another leap back to this day at this time, if Kenma does appear today. With what little information he has about Kenma’s day of turning, he can only hope that he’s making the right estimate, or he’ll have to make a few more jumps in order to find out. It may or may not devolve into actually having to follow Kenma around, if Yaku can find him, but Yaku is hoping he won’t have to go to that extent.

Briefly, Yaku pauses to muse if there’s any likelihood that he’ll be purified by _Sanctuin_. It’s a stupid worry, Yaku knows. He’s even more human than Kuroo, so he should be fine. But he’s not any _normal_ human either, and oh, what if the spell affects Kuroo instead - Kuroo shifts himself closer, and murmurs, low under his breath: “What’s got you so tense, Yakkun?”

It’s a stupid worry, Yaku repeats to himself. “Will we get affected by the spell too?”

Kuroo gapes at him, and Yaku swears he feels his stomach lurch in trepidation as Kuroo says, “Which part of you is corrupt? Your mind? I know mine isn’t.”

Okay, _what_.

Yaku did not sign up for this.

“It only works on the undead and on spirits,” Kuroo says with a quiet chuckle.

Yaku scowls, and is about to give Kuroo a piece of his mind, when Kageyama and Hinata come into sight and the words die on his lips. In the cold night wind, the cloak that’s slung across Kageyama’s shoulders billows wide. He almost looks like a member of royalty, Yaku thinks. That illusion, however, is lost when Hinata leaps in front of Kageyama, only for Kageyama to violently push him to the floor.

“They’re a strange pair,” Kuroo observes with a chuckle.

“Yeah, they are.”

Kageyama knocks on the oaken door and is ushered by a lady into the farmhouse, Hinata following close behind. The purification should be taking place soon, if what information Yaku has is right. He glances down to the all-seeing spell that’s projecting rectangular images on the ground as it flickers from place to place.

There’s no sign of Kenma anywhere.

“Relax,” Kuroo says, breath tickling his ear, and Yaku jumps in surprise at the suddenness of the movement.

“You’ll find him,” Kuroo says before Yaku can say anything. He’s wearing a strange expression that makes him look like he’s grimacing and smiling simultaneously.

“I mean,” Kuroo shrugs as he drops his gaze to the projection on the ground. “I don’t know him. Kenma, I mean. I haven’t met him yet. But from the way you talk about him, he’s obviously someone important to both of us. You’ll find him.”

Yaku smiles at that.

“We’ll find him, you mean,” he says. “I guess I’m ju- Kenma!”

There’s a shadow moving right at the edge of the projection, near what Yaku recognizes as the Ishikari River. Kuroo immediately widens the projected field of vision and Yaku feels a load lift from his heart. It’s unmistakably Kenma - “Pudding head,” Kuroo says from next to him in mild bemusement, just like Kuroo always says in the future - but Kenma looks famished here; famished and thin and scrawny as he sits down gingerly, leaning against a rusty fence that runs along the peripheral of the residential properties.

“What are his coordinates?” Yaku asks.

Kuroo’s in the middle of casting the location charm when it happens.

It’s not much, really. Yaku wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been waiting for it. A pale blue, nearly invisible wave ripples out from the back of the farmhouse, where Kageyama must have cast _Sanctuin_ already. Yaku feels it wash over him - a chilly sensation rushing through his body -  and notes how it comes to a halt against the left side of Kenma’s body.

“Guess your theory was right,” Yaku mutters under his breath to Kuroo, who’s concentrating on the location charm, scrawling illegible figures into the dusty ground.

“I’ve found him,” Kuroo announces. “And it seems the spell did brush him a little bit.”

“I noticed,” Yaku says with a sigh and more than a little relief. “Time to change history, then.”

 

* * *

 

  **(iii)**

**21st Century, x2**

 

The house is quiet when Kuroo pads out of his room in the morning. Yaku hasn’t woken up yet - he’d turned in early the night before, still tired from his long jump. He’s probably been making more long jumps recently, since he was able to wake up for dinner after such a short nap yesterday in spite of the long distance. The first time Yaku made a long jump to this timeline, he’d passed out for a good day and a half, which had prompted Kuroo to warn him against doing it again.

Still, it’s not like Yaku’s ever been one to listen to him. Yaku always says he worries too much, like how he says Yaku fusses over others too much. Someone’s got to watch out for Yaku if Yaku isn’t doing that for himself, right? 

And Yaku doesn’t look it, but he’s seen more war and conflict than Kuroo himself has at this point in time. But even though it’s part of Yaku’s job, the knowledge doesn’t make Kuroo worry any less.

After all, Yaku’s a time traveller turned diplomat. He’s sent to different centuries to try and minimize, if not defuse, disputes before they can happen, to reset history. But no matter how much Yaku tries, it’s not always possible for him to single-handedly change an entire country’s perception of another.

This time, Yaku’s been lucky. In the two years that he was away, he’s been to the 9th, the 15th, 25th, 28th, 30th and 40th centuries and not had any major injuries, besides a fine collection of abrasions and bruises and maybe one or two actual wounds. 

That isn’t to say Yaku has always been this lucky, though. The huge scar running diagonally across his back is proof of that. 

Yaku’s told him about it before: he’d been trying to resolve a long-running conflict between two rival clans in the 32nd century, when the clan members, persuaded that Yaku was a traitor and turncoat, had turned on him. He’d been unconscious for the better part of a month and a half; it was only because of Kuroo that he’d managed to pull through.

Kuroo’s spent many nights imagining what kind of wound it had been. An injury of that size must have taken a lot out of his future self to heal. It’s good to know, though, that all his future selves care for Yaku as much as he does - even when he’s not there with Yaku on his adventures, another version of Kuroo is, and the thought somewhat calms the disquiet in his heart.

“Morning,” Yaku murmurs, trudging out of the guest room to flop down next to Kuroo on the couch. He’s not fully awake yet, evident from the sleepy way with which he leans against Kuroo’s body, not even protesting when Kuroo weaves a hand through his wavy hair; a fully-conscious Yaku would likely never do something this affectionate even under threat of death.

“Morning,” Kuroo says in answer.

“I forgot to ask, has Kenma visited recently?”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at the random question. “He visited me a couple weeks back. He’s staying with chibi-chan and his friends.”

“Ah.” There’s a small smile tugging at Yaku’s lips, even though his eyes remain closed as he curls himself into Kuroo’s body heat. “That’s good to hear.”

 

* * *

 

**(12)**

**18th Century, x1**

 

“So,” Yaku says as he takes a bite out of his potato, appreciating the butter that’s been melted over it. “What do you say we do next?”

Kuroo yawns, unfurling himself from where he’s currently lying on the canapé. Kageyama and Hinata are at the table, poring over spellbooks in search of something that would be as effective as _Sanctuin_ , minus the side effects.

“There are two options,” Kuroo drawls. “Either I take over the purification job -”

“Sorry, but that’s not happening,” Kageyama interrupts. “I can’t just let you take over the job that I’m being paid for, Kuroo-san. Oikawa-san once told us that if we start something, we should be the ones to end it too.”

“Wow, wise words, Kageyama,” Hinata chirps from where his nose is buried in a book bigger than his face. Kageyama visibly resists the urge to throw one of the tomes on the table at him.

“Well, then the only other solution I can think of is the _Lumiel_ ,” Kuroo continues, unperturbed. “It’s everything you need, but… you’ll need a partner.”

Flipping through the spellbook, Hinata’s eyes light up when he finally finds the correct page. “ _Lumiel_ \- purifying, exorcising spell that expels impurity from a single target spirit. Requires two mages to execute. One is to cast a binding chant, the other the expulsion chant simultaneously. Failure to do so may result in attraction of more corrupt spirits.”

Yaku watches as Kageyama and Kuroo meet eyes, an unspoken question in the air - _where_ is Kageyama going to find a second mage?

But then Hinata breaks the silence.

“I’ll do the binding chant, then!”

“Ha?” Kageyama swivels around to stare at him, baffled.

Hinata grins. “My mum taught me the special binding spells that bards use. They’re on par with the best of the mages’!”

“What?” Kageyama’s eye twitches. “How come I’ve never heard you talk about knowing magic before?”

“Because you never asked, Bakageyama,” Hinata grumbles. “Do you need me to bind you to prove it?”

Kageyama’s lips curl up into a challenging smirk. “Bring it on.”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else, though, because next thing he knows, he’s being held in glowing chains that hold his arms and legs fast against the chair. “W-What,” he sputters. “Oi, Hinata. Let me go, you asshole.”

Kuroo’s settled himself in the chair next to him and doesn’t seem too bothered by this sudden turn of events, so Yaku decides to watch, even though he can think of a million and one ways that this could possibly go wrong.

He’s never seen Hinata use bard magic in person, and he’s curious. Let him live. Besides, Kuroo’s here if anything happens.

Hinata’s grinning now, cheerful bordering on manic. It’s a look Yaku’s seen on him before, somewhere in the distant future, and the memory still sends shivers down his spine. But Kageyama doesn’t seem to even bat an eyelid at the sudden hostility that’s radiating off of Hinata.

“I can either let you go,” Hinata says, loosening his hold on the chains a little. Kageyama starts to squirm, “or hold you tighter,” there’s a hard clack as the chains tighten around the legs of the chair.

“Screw you,” Kageyama grits out, looking as though he’s about to start spewing fire, but Kuroo cuts in.

“Now, now, if you would please, keep your kinky shenanigans out of my house,” he says amicably, at which Hinata and Kageyama instantly turn scarlet. Hinata releases the binds immediately; they vanish into thin air.

Kuroo turns to Yaku. “I guess that’s settled, then. I’ll handle any collateral damage that might happen if they fail, but with Kageyama-kun’s talent, I think it won’t be much challenge for them to use _Lumiel_.”

“Right,” Yaku says. “So how do we get Kageyama in-the-past to do that?”

“It’s _Kageyama_ ,” Hinata chortles, having recovered from Kuroo’s jibe. “He’s a simpleton. I’ll help you, Yaku-san!”

 

* * *

 

**(13)**

**18th Century, x1.5**

 

Yaku’s searching for Kenma when he returns to the day of the purification. He’s left Kuroo to persuade Kageyama and Hinata that their future selves are trying to save a hapless vampire, with the help of a scribbled doodle that made Yaku _really_ question Hinata’s faerie heritage and overall maturity, and the whole nature of his seemingly antagonistic relationship with Kageyama.

But some things in the world don’t quite make sense, so Yaku leaves it be. Right now, his first priority is to find Kenma.

They've decided to bring Kenma back to Kuroo's place - even though _Lumiel_ won't have any of the side effects that _Sanctuin_ had, both Kuroo and Yaku agreed that Kenma needs to be looked after. And anyway, if they're going to be taking him in when he shows up at Kuroo's doorstep in the 20th century, might as well hasten the process.

He’s leaning on the bridge spanning the Ishikari River, when a lone figure stumbles into view: Kenma, clad in a black robe, shivering and pale and thin. Yaku’s chest aches at the sight. But he is human, and Kenma is a vampire. A _hungry_ and hostile vampire. Yaku knows better than to go up to Kenma and offer himself up as a fresh meal.

Instead, he waits for Kenma to settle down in front of the rusty fence, before slowly making his way towards the other, the vial of blood that he’s brought for Kenma clasped tightly in his hand. It’ll have to stave off Kenma’s hunger until Kuroo, Kageyama and Hinata catch up with them.

Kenma may be sluggish, and weary, and listless, but one thing is for sure: he is feral and dangerous. He raises himself on his haunches once he spots Yaku, baring his fangs as though daring him to come any closer.

Of course, Yaku comes closer.

“Relax,” he says once he’s sure Kenma can hear him. “I’m not here to harm you. I brought food.”

Kenma’s eyes flit over Yaku, as though processing this foreign creature speaking to him, and his shoulders hunch up, a defense mechanism that Yaku has seen enough of in the future.

Yaku edges closer, careful to avoid eye contact - Kenma’s never been good with eye contact, and Yaku doesn’t want to make him feel any more threatened than he already does. Instead, he focuses on the way Kenma’s skin glows pale in the darkness of the night.

He places the vial of blood within Kenma’s reach, and backs away to a safe distance.

“You can drink that,” he says. In the stillness of the night, his voice carries. “It’s not poisoned. If it is, you’d be able to tell.”

Silence.

Yaku holds his breath.

Kenma shifts, one pale hand reaching out to grab the vial, swiftly uncorking it and drinking its contents.

Yaku breathes out.

 

* * *

  

**(14)**

**25th Century, x2**

 

Kenma’s sitting on the couch, game console in hand, when Yaku enters the house. He’s not alone. Hinata is next to him, holding a matching console. They’re playing a multiplayer game that Yaku recognizes as Guardcrest, which he’d brought back from the 31st century some time ago.

“Hello, Yaku-san,” Kenma says even as he manages to kill a big group of Hinata’s troops and win the game, a small triumphant smile lighting up his features. Hinata groans in disappointment before turning around and noticing Yaku’s presence.

 “Yaku-san!” he says, springing off the couch and cannonballing towards Yaku. Yaku stumbles under the force of his weight, knocked breathless momentarily before he regains his bearings enough to ruffle Hinata’s hair. The other hasn’t really grown much since the last time he saw him and is still slightly shorter than Yaku himself.

“You’re heavy, Hinata,” he chastises, but Hinata simply grins wider. “Where’s Kuroo?”

“Probably sleeping,” Kenma says, already pressing the buttons to start the next game. “Shouyou, are you continuing?”

“Of course,” Hinata beams, scrambling back to where he was sitting.

“I’m going to find Kuroo for a while,” Yaku decides, as they start the next game. There are twin sounds of acknowledgement from the couch as he makes his way towards the master bedroom.

“So?” Kuroo says in way of greeting when Yaku enters. He’s awake - but of course he would be. “Chibi-chan’s been getting cozy with Kenma, huh?”

Yaku drops his small travelling backpack on the ground and sinks into the chair next to Kuroo’s bed. Kuroo turns over to face him, one golden eye cracking open to look at him.

“Yeah, he is,” Yaku admits at last. “I’m glad.”

“You sound like a proud mother,” Kuroo comments with interest, and at that, Yaku can’t help the choked laugh that escapes him. He’s relieved, yes, but also proud.

The first time around, Kenma had been a lonely vampire. Sure, he’d met Hinata but they’d never had much chance to get to know each other.

This time however, with Hinata and Kageyama’s help, Kenma has been interacting with people besides Kuroo and Yaku. Hinata has such a wide social circle, both mortal and immortal alike, that Kenma’s never alone anymore.

“Before I changed this line of history,” he says, leaning his head against the back of the chair, “Kenma was alone. I’m happy he’s got someone now.”

He can feel the hot prickling of tears at the back of his eyes, and huffs in slight embarrassment. Kuroo doesn’t say anything, just shuffles over to pull Yaku in for a short hug.

Between the two of them, there is no need for words. In a world where people like them are usually resigned to a lonely fate, they've found in each other a constant companion across the ages.

 

* * *

 

  **(15)**

**40th Century, x2**

 

Yaku cracks a sleepy eye open to find light streaming in through the window. It takes some time for him to process that artificial gravity is tugging at his body, and that the light isn’t from the sun, but from the huge incandescent lamps outside.

He lies there for a while before propping himself up into a sitting position, taking a brief moment to miss the warmth of sunlight that no manner of man-made technology can ever hope to fully replicate.

It’s his first time in the 40th century, and also the first time he’s been in outer space. He… doesn’t particularly like it. He’s read many books imagining how living in space would be like, but reality doesn’t cut close. At all.

Since they came to Europa, Kenma's moved out, leaving the metaphorical nest to spread his wings with the mercurial whirlwind that is Hinata. Yaku isn’t surprised at all, really - it was a turn of events he was expecting. If he were to be honest, he’s surprised it took Kenma and Hinata this long. But in Kenma’s absence, the cool container apartment that now belongs to only Kuroo (and him) feels a little bit emptier.

Probably the one highlight of staying here would be the fact that Kuroo’s staying in the same room as he is - it’s the first time they’ve ever stayed in the same room together, since previously Yaku would lodge in Kuroo’s guest room. Maybe he should change that particular thread of history too, Yaku thinks distantly -

Here, he can watch the way Kuroo’s chest rises and falls in the quietness of the room. And even here, all the way in outer space, Kuroo’s space smells of cinnamon. That, at least, hasn’t changed.

Maybe it won’t be so bad to stay with Kuroo like this.

But Yaku is Yaku, and the yearning to travel is a huge part of his life, is part of who he _is_ , really. He’s never been one to stay rooted for long, and now that Kenma’s finally able to live the life he couldn’t the first time, Yaku figures that maybe it’s time for him to return to _him_ \- _his_ Kuroo, in the 21st century.

Because while sure, Kuroo is Kuroo no matter which century he’s in, and he cares for every version of Kuroo equally much - not that Kuroo has to know that - but the one in the 21st century, who’s been with him since before he even mastered time travel, is the one to whom Yaku’s heart belongs.

The sentimentality of the notion disgusts him, so Yaku digs his toe into Kuroo’s ribs, the other jolting awake with a wounded yelp.

“What is it, Yakkun?!” he yelps, head still sandwiched between his pillows.

“Wake up, lazybum,” Yaku says, unable to keep himself from smiling.

“Don’t be rude to your host or you may just get kicked out,” Kuroo moans.

“Funny, that’s what you always say but I always find myself in your bed anyway.”

“That’s it, I’m going to lock you out of my house in every other century.”

“You wouldn’t,” Yaku says in mock horror. Kuroo pulls himself out of his pillow and gives Yaku a devious smile.

“Try me.”

As they return to their usual bickering, Yaku makes up his mind. He’ll return to the 21st century after this, even though he knows Kuroo will definitely throw a bitch fit about him making such a long jump. He doesn’t feel like making another stopover in the war-torn 30th century before he gets back to Kuroo.

But first, they need to eat. Never mind that liquid food is really the most disgusting thing that mankind has ever dreamt up. He’s hungry.

 

* * *

  

**(iv)**

**21st century, x2**

 

“So, are you really never ever going to tell me why you felt the need to jump nineteen centuries to see me?” Kuroo asks as he turns the page of the magazine he’s reading. His free arm is looped carelessly around Yaku’s body; the other is watching some video on Youtube that Kenma sent him with a caption saying ‘Shouyou asked me to show you this’.

He's only half-serious. If Yaku doesn't want to tell him, then Kuroo won't press. But as it is, Yaku hasn't explicitly said he doesn't want to talk about it, which gives Kuroo some leeway to be whiny and persistent.

Yaku waves him off. “Ask me after I finish this.”

Kuroo does as asked. Yaku levels him an even glance, then jumps to his feet, casting Kuroo’s arm away. Kuroo tries not to miss the warmth of Yaku’s body too much.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” Yaku decides, already halfway to the door. Kuroo rolls his eyes in fond exasperation, but follows anyway.

According to Yaku, the ice cream parlour down the street makes it till somewhere in the middle of the 22nd century - ah, how transient ice cream parlours are - so Kuroo visits whenever he gets the chance. The road there is familiar: Kuroo probably can make his way there blindfolded if need be, so he takes to watching Yaku instead.

Yaku’s wearing a thin sweater with a cat paw print and jeans, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he walks. He’s looking ahead. Kuroo wonders what he sees - and Yaku turns just then, in time to catch him staring.

“What is it?”

Kuroo smirks. “Not everyday I get a change in scenery.”

Yaku snorts and elbows him in the stomach, but turns to focus on the road ahead. “Yeah, yeah, make the most of it while it lasts.”

They make it to the ice cream parlour in relative silence after that, the sole interruptions coming from the gravel shifting under their feet and birds chirping overhead.

It’s always the same flavour, every time, so Kuroo orders for both of them: chocolate for Yaku, in a cup, and a mango cone for himself, then heads over to where Yaku’s already seated at a table by the window, gazing outside.

Not for the first time today, Kuroo wonders what he’s thinking of.

“Thanks,” Yaku says with a small smile as Kuroo hands him his cup. 

The thought strikes Kuroo after his first lick. “Do we have ice cream in the future?”

“Depends on which future you’re talking about,” Yaku says, digging his spoon into his ice cream. “We had it up till the 27th, at least. I don't think I've ever had it after that.” 

“That’s miserable indeed,” Kuroo muses. Yaku makes a sound of agreement.

They sink back into a silence so heavy it would be awkward had it been anyone else. Yaku’s got that contemplative look on him once again as he eats his ice cream, as if savouring every mouthful.

“You’re thinking a lot today,” he observes quietly, taking the first bite out of his waffle cone.

“Am I, now,” is Yaku’s only reply. He sounds distracted.

“You know… You know you can tell me anything, right?” The words sound awkward and stilted on Kuroo’s tongue. He’s not used to being this _formal_ with Yaku, but Yaku’s being _weird_ and all _quiet_ and Kuroo has no idea what to do. They were fine yesterday, so what’s up with Yaku today?

Yaku makes a face. “That sounds weird, coming from you.” At Kuroo’s indignant expression, he chuckles a bit. “Fine, fine. Where’s home to you?" 

Kuroo blinks. “31 Marunochi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo. Do you need my postal code?”

There’s a kick against his shin under the table, and he winces - _damn it,_ Yaku’s kicks are still as strong as ever, maybe even stronger now. “Idiot,” he snorts, returning his gaze to something outside the window.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about home,” Yaku deigns to say at last. “Or, I don’t know, the idea of home. Kenma, in the future... he finds a home of his own.”

He turns back to meet Kuroo’s eyes, and _is Yaku blushing?_ Kuroo doesn’t get to think, because Yaku says, “But you know, time travellers don't quite belong anywhere. We don’t exactly have somewhere to call our own.”

Kuroo’s about to protest that, to say that’s _not true_ \- but Yaku beats him to the chase. “But whenever I'm with you, I feel like I've come home." 

Kuroo gapes at him then, because did Yaku - _Yaku Morisuke_ \- just say something _that_ emotional to Kuroo’s face? The mood is immediately ruined, though, when Yaku busies himself with finishing up his ice cream, snidely commenting as he does: “Your ice cream’s melting all over your hand.”    

“I really want to hug you right now,” Kuroo says. It’s true.

Yaku glares at him, not that there’s any heat in it. “No. There’s ice cream all over your hand."

“So you’ll let me hug you once my hand is clean?” 

Yaku doesn’t reply, but his face is a brilliant enough shade of red for Kuroo to know the answer.

 

Later, when Kuroo’s hand isn’t sticky with ice cream anymore, they walk back to Kuroo’s house. They’re one bend away from 31 Marunochi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, when the wind blows, and stray cherry blossoms scatter around them. Kuroo can feel some of them making their new homes in his hair, and others have landed in Yaku’s as well. 

“Hey, Yakkun,” he calls. Yaku stops, turns to him in question. “Wait up.” 

“You are literally next to me,” Yaku points out, but Kuroo bends down so that he can pick the petals out of Yaku’s hair.  

“Yeah,” Kuroo says a beat too late, the offending petals now safely held in his not-sticky hand. Before Yaku realizes what’s happening, Kuroo’s pulled him into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of Yaku’s head. “I’m just claiming my free hug.” 

Yaku stiffens, then relaxes into the hug, arms coming up around Kuroo’s back. “Asshole,” he mutters, voice muffled against the cotton of Kuroo’s sweater. 

In the heat of the moment, Kuroo blurts out, “Can I kiss you?” 

Well, what can he say. He’s never been good at keeping a filter around Yaku, after all. He’s half-expecting Yaku to shove him away, but instead Yaku just pulls away slightly, eyes widening in surprise. “Not in _public_ , what the hell.” 

That isn’t a no. To Kuroo, it sounds a little bit like the start of forever.

 

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> _Home is a person, not a place._
> 
> * * *
> 
> In case it wasn't clear enough:
> 
> Timeline wise:  
>  (i) to (iv) are all told in the 21st century, after Yaku's reset history and returned from the 40th century in (15).  
>  (1) to (15) are snippets of the events that lead up to Yaku changing history, and ends off with the 40th century, right before Yaku jumps back to the 21st century in (i).
> 
> Kuroo's a warlock; Konoha is _supposed_ to be one too, but I didn't get to mention that.  
>  Kenma is a vampire. Bokuto and Akaashi are faeries.  
>  Warlocks, vampires and faeries are all immortal.  
>  Hinata is half-faerie, so he is immortal too. 
> 
> Yaku, Nishinoya and Kai are time travellers. They're basically assigned by [Insert Original Character Here] to carry out Time Travel Fix-Its. They're humans blessed with the skill of time travel, so they are mortal. But with how they jump around the centuries while they're alive, it's difficult for the immortals to remember that particular fact.  
>  Sugawara, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Kageyama (and Kyoutani) are mages and healers. They're mortal.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Shoutout to the following people for helping me: [Elly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenFics/pseuds/BrokenFics), [Gunny](http://osekksi.tumblr.com/) and [Safyre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily).
> 
> This story took me by surprise: its original draft was a 1000 word scene that I wrote for Nanowrimo, and it was never intended to become _this_ long. The genre was unexpected too, because I'm not a fan of fantasy at all, but the fantasy elements ended up writing themselves into this anyway.
> 
> Writing this has been a huge challenge for the three weeks that I've been working on it (it's practically all I've been talking about on tumblr the past few weeks). It's hardly been smooth sailing, and I keep second-guessing myself, even as I write this, but I'm done now. 
> 
> I hope you liked it! A comment or a kudos would mean an incredible amount to me.
> 
> Scream with me here about Kuroyaku:  
>  [tumblr (rielity)](https://rielity.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (noyabeans)](https://twitter.com/noyabeans)


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